Lost in Translation
by ch3lsk0
Summary: Brittany has a question about the graded assignment Mr. Schuester handed back to them. AKA a silly one-shot about what happens when you put Brittana, Faberry, and Puck in the same Spanish class.


**Disclaimer:** Nope, I still don't own Glee.

**A/N1:** This was a little piece I wrote a very long time ago that I had recently rediscovered in my USB drive. I cleaned it up and thought I'd share it with you guys! (and hopefully the readers that follow my story_ Staring at the Sun_ will accept this as an apology for the obnoxiously long wait in between updates. I'm working on the next chapter, I swear!)

**A/N2:** Since I wrote this a while ago, it takes place sometime after Rumours. Oh, also, fun fact: I had an English teacher who graded assignments how Schue does in this story... hence the inspiration for it.

I hope you all enjoy!

* * *

"Vag?"

"Excuse me?" Quinn inquired to Brittany with an arched eyebrow.

"It says 'vag!'"

"What are you talking about? What says-" Brittany cut Quinn off by shoving her recently returned Spanish essay in her face.

Quinn glanced around before taking the paper. Mr. Schuester left the room a couple minutes ago after distributing back the graded assignments. She rolled her eyes. He was probably stalking Ms. Pillsbury.

Santana leaned over from her desk to see what all the commotion was about. She grabbed the paper from the ex-cheerleader's hands and promptly burst out in laughter over the critique their teacher wrote. "It does say vag! I always figured macaroni hair was a creeper. I mean, telling us to call him if we ever get plastered at a party. To what? Pick us up and drive us to a dark alley and start a party of his own? Hells no." She rolled her eyes.

"I caught Lord Tubbington in the alley behind Marc's Market one time." Brittany quipped. She scrunched up her face, "I think he was dealing drugs. He told me he was clean, but I don't know what to believe ever since he started smoking cigarettes again…" She trailed off while Santana put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Shaking her head, Quinn took the paper back from Santana and skimmed the essay. She turned to the duo with a smirk on her face, "Brittany, I think this stands for-"

"Okay, okay, quiet down!" Mr. Schuester called out as he entered the classroom. Quinn rolled her eyes. People really needed to stop interrupting her. She looked to Santana to find her making faces and mocking along to whatever Schue was blabbing on about. She chuckled at her friend while Brittany laughed out loud.

"Brittany, may I ask what's so funny?" Mr. Schue scolded. Santana frowned. Oh, hell no. He didn't get to leave the room for, like, 20 minutes and then come back all of a sudden to act like a teacher now.

"Well, sure," Santana called out, "it's a free country; do whatever your little curly haired heart desires!" She winked as the majority of the class now had their attention. Some of them snickered after her remark.

Mr. Schue glanced around the class while fixing his tie. His eyes landed on the smirking student and he hardened his stare. "Well then, please share with the rest of us what couldn't wait until after class."

Santana crossed her arms and leaned back to kick her feet up on the seat in front of her. Rachel made a sound of protest; she didn't particularly enjoy being a human footrest. Quinn glared at Santana before catching the diva's eye with an apologetic look.

Santana quirked an eyebrow up at the exchange. She'll have to look into that later. She shook her head and glanced back at their teacher. "Well..." she drawled as she made a show of reaching for Brittany's paper. She skimmed it and pointed to a word in red ink. "We were just wondering why you wrote about vaginas on Brittany's essay."

Quinn snickered at her frenemy's blunt honesty. Brittany met Santana's gaze with mirth in her eyes while the rest of the room laughed.

Mr. Schuester's face turned red, "it-it.. It says 'v-a-g' …not…not…"

"Vag? High-five, Mr. Schue!" Puck called out from the back of the room.

The Spanish teacher's eyes narrowed while he sputtered to regain control of his class, "It's an abbreviation for 'vague!'" he exclaimed.

"Mr. Schuester, if I may?" He sighed, but before he could even reply, Rachel continued. "While I personally pride myself on speaking and writing as articulately as I can," behind her, she could've sworn she heard Santana whisper something about _fucking understatement of the year_, but she continued on unfazed, "I understand that not everyone has the patience, for reasons that are beyond my comprehension, to take full advantage of our language, nor to ensure they are not butchering it..." at Quinn's cough, she hurried to the point. "Perhaps next time you should think a little more on how to shorten a word. Or, considering it wasn't that long-"

"That's what she said"

"Shut up, Puckerman!"

Rachel beamed at Quinn before turning back to the teacher. "There really was no need to shorten a word that was already lacking in length." She paused. When Noah remained silent, she continued, "Furthermore, your attempt at abbreviating the word 'vague' was vague in itself."

Santana cut her off, "the hobbit's saying not to write 'vag' on my girl's paper."

"Well, I wouldn't put it so crudely-"

"I have texts saved from Santana that have 'vag' in them."

The bell rang.

"Best. Class. Ever." Puck quipped as a snickering Lauren dragged him out to the hallway.


End file.
